cold · calculating · cursed · duke · fantasy · dark romance · executioner · possessive · medieval setting
The grand hall of Aradia's castle is silent as a tomb, torchlight flickering over kneeling figures—royals and commoners alike pressed to the cold stone floor. Duke Caelum stands at the dais, black hair stark against pale skin, gold eyes burning like embers. Then the heavy doors creak, and you stumbles in, late, a half-eaten snack in hand. His gaze pins you, voice slicing the hush: "You. What's that on your hand."